There And Back Again?
by Thalia Weaver
Summary: A girl wakes up in pre-LotR Rohan, and settles into life in Edoras; hopefully NOT a Mary-Sue, but let the canon be your guide. *bows to Tolkien*
1. Chapter One: Stratford

A/N: Attack of the plot bunnies! Well…I'm guilty…otay? Don't kill me for writing a girl-in-Middle-Earth story! It might turn out good…I *do* have a plan! It's canonical, too! No ten! No ten! *grin* Yes, self-inserted, but no, not Mary-Sue (at least, I hope so anyway.)

Disclaimer: LotR isn't mine, but I am. Bob is the bus company's, Jenny and Grace own themselves, and my parents have just finished paying off the mortgage on my house. Oh yeah, and Becky (Penn), Ari, Lee, and all my other amazing friends own themselves too.

There- And Back Again?

By Thalia Weaver

Chapter One: Stratford

The bus wheezed and choked its antiquated way up the hill to my house. And up…and up…and up…and then, the motor sputtered to a halt.

"Thaliaaaaaa," came a chorus of moans. The giant hill my house stood at the top of was famous for its girth and steepness, and often was the death of our ancient bus' fragile motor's most spectacular failures. This was one of the best of them- we were situated at about a right-degree angle. 

"You know, this hill is a nuisance," was our bus driver's only comment as she hitched herself down gingerly onto the sloping asphalt. She and I both knew that I had no control over my parents' odd choice of locale, and it was too much effort to get angry when Bob (our affectionate nickname for the bus- also known as The Sputter Machine, Billy-Jo, and Evil Disgusting Piece of **&^*%#! when we were mad) had sputtered to a stop, especially on my hill.

Our driver, Jenny, was a large black woman with an unusual command of the English language. She had been brought up by an Oxford professor and had a distinct British accent, as well as an impressive syntactical deftness, not to mention the wonderful prolificacy of her cursing vocabulary. Listening to her describe a flat tire was very educational. Her skill with machinery was wondrous, and it was only a matter of seconds before she got the bus started again.

"You know, Thals, it's only two months into school and we've already broken down on your hill five times," said the girl sitting next to me, pushing her long, straight brown hair out of her eyes. Her name was Grace, and she was my very best friend in the world. 

"What can I say? Old Bob is…well…my hill is more than a match for him," I responded, rolling my eyes. 

Grace grinned. "What, Ol' Terror here? Your very own vertical highway?"

"Grrr…" I fake-punched her one in the gut, then turned away, whistling. We'd just reached my house. It figured that my parents were recluses; I had inherited the gene. Other than Grace, I had a few terrific friends in the world. There was Becky, the intrinsically fascinating poet, who I was convinced was the next e. e. cummings; Ari, the architect wanna-be; Lee, the medieval weapons fanatic; Christine, the general all-around awesome writer…person…, Mytsie, the anime/drawing-obsessed…and a few more.

Bob shuddered to a stop once we reached my house, his brakes groaning loudly with the supreme effort of halting. With a smile at Grace, I grabbed my pile of papers and notebooks, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and left the bus. The afternoon was sunny and sweet, and I was very happy indeed. In fact, I actually whistled on the way in, thumping my bag down on the floor of my home. Even older than Bob, my house (affectionately nicknamed "Things-Fall-Apart") was a converted colonial-era barn, ancient-looking, warm in summer, cold in winter and absolutely beloved by my entire family, myself included. Throwing off my shoes and socks, I wiggled my toes into the thick furry rug that covered the floor in the hall. Today was a good day to be alive, especially in Stratford, New Jersey in the fall. 

I pattered upstairs to my room, which was once a tiny storage room off of the hayloft. It still smelled faintly of straw, which was fine with me. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which was even finer, and they were filled with books, the finest of all. I sank down on my bed, lying flat on my back and staring up at the large hole in the roof, which my parents had covered in glass. The sky was bright blue, and I noticed a cloud in the shape of a sword. Or perhaps it was a…well, something about it reminded me of Lord of the Rings, somehow. But then, most things did- that was the way it was when it came to obsessiveness with me, and I was definitely obsessed with Lord of the Rings. 

I yawned, suddenly overcome with drowsiness. _I'll do my homework later, _I thought, and drifted off into a deep sleep… 


	2. Chapter Two: Rohan

There- And Back Again?

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. Crappy self-insertion. To quote the immortal Dorothy Parker, 'Lord, give me my chocolate and my alcohol, and any other guilty pleasure that comes along; then, and only then, will my life make sense.' Well, let's hope it won't become a Mary-Sue then. Otay? Tell me if it is one.

I yawned again, and stretched. I was about to roll over and get back to sleep, when I realized that something was very wrong. There was a rock poking into my back, and grass tickling my feet. I gingerly cracked my eye open, expecting to see my little sisters grinning down at me, having carried me downstairs into the yard, or something. 

Of all the things in the world to see, the last one I expected was a field of long grass- certainly not the short kind that grew all around my house- and a tiny stream full of rocks flowing inches away from my feet. I opened both eyes, considerably shocked at the sight, and looked around. There was no sign of…anything, actually. I tried to think. 

All I remembered was drifting off to sleep in my room. Then I considered something else- it had been sunny and cold in Stratford, with a fall breeze that put a nip into the air and made the leaves' colors seems crisper, sharper. But here-wherever I was-the sun was shining brightly, and it was very warm indeed. So warm, in fact, that my heavy brown school sweater was becoming uncomfortable. There was no point in being lost, bewildered _and _hot, so I drew it over my head. 

Tying the sweater around my waist, I took a good look around. Past the small brook that babbled at my feet, the field of long grass seemed to go on…and on…and on…as far as the eye could see. I sighed, and sat on the ground in perplexity. The reality that I had no idea where I was finally hit me. 

Had I been kidnapped? It was feasible, but not very; my parents weren't rich, and we lived in one of the safest places in the country. Besides, who would want to kidnap me? I wasn't worth any money, as far as I knew.

My father had been working at home today, I remembered; anyone who had broken into the house would have had to get past him, and my room was in the hayloft. Besides, no one that wasn't in my family except Grace knew where I slept; in fact, my room was very hard to find unless you knew what you were looking for. Also, if I had been kidnapped, where were my kidnappers? Why was I unbound? 

The only other possibility I could think of was that my dad or mum had decided to play some kind of joke on me. I knew my parents had a wacky sense of humour, but it wasn't _this _strange. If my parents _had _decided to pull a prank and drive me out to some random field somewhere while I was asleep, they would have showed themselves by now; I knew them. And where, within drivable distance, could you go that was in the depth of summer when Stratford was in the middle of autumn? 

My musing was interrupted by a distant rumbling. _With my luck, that's my kidnappers, _I thought, all traces of my former terrific mood having disappeared. Frantically, I wondered how long it would take for my parents to realise I was gone. 

My mother, being the organised one, would probably take a day or so; while my father could immerse himself in work for weeks, completely oblivious to anything outside. It was tough trying to get him to eat sometimes. I smiled ruefully, remembering the chemistry set he'd gotten me for my birthday one year. Despite his hopes, I would never be a scientist to follow in his footsteps; I was a writer through and through. 

The rumbling came closer, and this time I could see what caused it. My jaw dropped. A troop of riders were galloping up to me, getting closer by the second. _Ku Klux Klan…? _I thought vaguely, remembering some kind of movie we'd seen in history class. The thought was quickly banished; I didn't see any white hoods anywhere, and besides, the KKK lived in Alabama, or Georgia, was it? It would probably be this warm in Alabama, though…

The riders were now far to my left. In fact, they didn't seem to notice me. I was confused- if they weren't my captors, who were? 

One of the riders, on a large bay horse, appeared to notice me. I couldn't see that well, they were too far off, but they all seemed to be wheeling around, and…and… 

__

They were all galloping towards me. 

I gasped, and decided to run. My feet suddenly became determined to stick to the ground, however, and I couldn't move. They were coming closer. I could see that they were blond- all of them. There wasn't a brunette among the group. _Like the Riders of Rohan, _I thought, and then kicked myself. Trust me to think about Lord of the Rings at a time like this, when my life or death hung in the balance.

The sun glinted on their armor, reflecting off their spears…wait a minute. Armor? Spears? Had I fallen into the Renaissance Faire? 

Those spears didn't look fake. Neither did the armor. Or the helmets. Or the looks of grim determination on each of their faces as they surrounded me.

"You there, maiden!" said the tallest one. I immediately guessed that he was the leader. Brilliant, no? 

"Er…yes?" I answered awkwardly, trying not to quail under the hostile stares of the warriors- because these _were _warriors, what kind I didn't know. Maybe I had…hell, I gave up trying to rationalize. I must be dreaming. And then it lit up in my head like the light bulb in those Bugs Bunny cartoons- I _was _dreaming! What an utterly bizarre dream. 

"What do you here in the Riddermark?" His voice was gruff and deep. 

__

Good grief, it's…Rohan, I thought. _It's always LotR, isn't it, even when I'm dreaming…_

I didn't answer fast enough, I suppose, because one of them poked me with his spear- gently, I guess. It hurt. I _felt_ it. I _felt _it. 

This was no dream. It couldn't be, it was too real, maybe there were some hallucinatory drugs involved-

"Speak, or we will take you before Thengel King!"

And that was when I fainted.


	3. Chapter Three: Riding To Edoras

There And Back Again?

By Thalia Weaver

Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. 

Chapter Three: Riding To Edoras

Water was being poured over my face. Cold water. I opened my eyes gingerly, expecting school to be starting any minute and Bob to be sputtering anciently outside my door. The sight that met my eyes, however, was a blonde man staring bewilderedly down at me, holding a bucket of water. I gasped and sat up, utterly confused for a moment.

Then memory came flooding back, and with a sinking feeling I realized that I had wet my school skirt.

_Mom is going to be mad at me, _I thought distractedly, before remembering suddenly that my mother was…not only thousands of miles away, but an entire universe away…and all my friends…I was suddenly encompassed by a terrible feeling of utter loneliness. 

"Maiden? Are you all right?"

The voice of the blonde man jolted me back to reality, and I snapped my eyes back to him. He looked to be about forty, with a kind face and long greying hair, hidden by a tall helmet emblazoned with galloping horses. 

"Er…yes…I suppose…" I answered, my mind reeling crazily with the fact that I was _in Middle-Earth. _In _Middle-earth. Middle-fucking-Earth. Rohan. I was in Rohan._

"What do you here in Rohan?" came another, harsher voice. The speaker was a taller, (though still blonde) haughty-looking man, with a high forehead and a hooked nose. I gulped.

"Er…um…I…actually," I hedged, unsure what to say, then stopped in shock. What I had been speaking…whatever it was…had *not* been English. Not English at all. It was a rolling, earthy language, and they had spoken it too. _It must be…Rohirric, _I thought. _I guess whatever magic transported me here covered syntactical differences too- there's no way they'd be speaking English here… _I gulped again. I was still stranded in a foreign society with no friends or companions whatsoever, and I didn't know anything.

_He mentioned Thengel, so this must be pre-LotR. They wouldn't be as suspicious then…oh God, think, think, think…what's a plausible story…maybe I should just tell the truth? But how can I?_

"I…I do not know," I finished finally, opting for the non-answer. "I think…I must have hurt myself, for I cannot remember anything."

"Know you even your name?" The haughty man asked, his voice slightly gentler. 

"Thalia," I answered softly. "But that is all I remember." 

The haughty man sighed, turning to the warrior who had woken me up. "Eothir, we cannot take an addled lass with us on our travels," he said. "It would not be proper. There are wagging tongues in Edoras."

The first man- Eothir- looked me up and down, and I drew back self-consciously. "I had best take her to my sister's house," he said finally, turning back to the other man. "If she does not remember her kin, then there is no one for her here. We cannot leave her to die." 

"You must go, Eothir," the haughty-looking man remarked. "We cannot afford to lose more than one warrior, and you know your sister better than the rest."

Eothir looked slightly angry, then resigned. "Very well," he replied, sighing. 

I looked blankly at them, unsure what this meant. Eothir perceived this and turned to me.

"I will take you to my sister's home in Edoras," he told me gently. "You will stay with her, until your memory returns, or your kin come to find you. Do not fear, lass- Thalia," he corrected himself, my name sounding odd on his tongue. "Now the horse of Eonhyr will come to use again, though its rider be of a different sort." 

I smiled hesitantly, and swung up onto the horse with the ease that can only come from spending a month or so smashing your butt every day in riding camp, though I was hampered by my long skirt. Eothir smiled encouragingly, and wheeled his horse around. I followed his lead, keeping all my concentration on keeping the horse under control- the mares in Stratford Riding Camp were not the best preparation for Rohirric warhorses! 

I was riding to Edoras.


	4. Chapter Four: Of Saddle Sores and Bedrol...

There And Back Again?

Chapter Four: Of Saddle Sores and Bedrolls 

I hurriedly drew my horse up alongside Eothir, who was staring stonily ahead, looking angry.

"I am sorry if I caused you trouble," I ventured, remembering the kindness of his face when he had woken me up.

He looked startled for a moment, then smiled.

"I am not vexed with you, lass. But there are some"- he grimaced as though he had tasted something spoiled- "who are overeager to have me gone, and would direct the troop to greater harshness than is needed in a peaceful land." 

I coughed, gathering that there was some internal conflict in the troop beyond my almost non-existent knowledge. 

He looked inquisitively at my button-down white shirt. 

"Strange garb you wear, lass," he commented. "Never have I seen such cloth. It is a shame that you cannot remember the land of your birth." 

We then rode along in silence for awhile, conversation impeded by the fact that I didn't know what to say to a Rider of Rohan. And I was still in shock.

"M sister is kind," he offered suddenly, awkward. "I think she would be glad of another child in her home." 

I gulped, uncertain whether my dubious housekeeping and diplomatic skills would suffice in a Rohirric household. For that matter, LotR didn't mention a word of what a typical Rohirric household would be like; I didn't have the slightest idea of what to expect. 

Suddenly, my eyes filled with tears. I stared at the horse's mane, willing them to go away- something told me that only bravery would help in this situation. 

"Perhaps you could befriend my daughter," Eothir was saying. "She is lonely, and it would do her well to have another girl to be companion to her."

I tried to smile, the feeling of being completely alone in an alien land almost suffocating me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I could only do my best. 

The sun gradually sank behind the treetops as we rode on in silence. Dark came swiftly, the red sun melting into the green plain, and Eothir drew rein on his horse.

"Here we stop," he said, pointing at a large flat grass-covered clearing. There was a bedroll in my horse's saddlebags. I pulled it out.

Eothir spread his bedroll on the ground, flung himself down, and was asleep almost immediately. I rolled mine out more slowly, and lay inside it, staring at the stars.

I could see thousands. Even in Stratford, a relatively countrified New Jersey town, there was too much smog to really see the stars- but the sky here was perfectly clear, and I could perceive the constellations sharply against the velvet dome of heaven. 

A vision of the old, creaky house on the vertical hill in Stratford covered the stars, and the lump in my throat swelled.

__

Will I ever see my house again?

I fell asleep with tears in my eyes, shivering as the night grew cold. 

The morning came brightly, and the sun blinded me momentarily. I panicked at first when I saw Eothir, mounted and armed, waiting for me to get up; soon, however, memory returned and I packed away the bedroll, wincing at the saddle sores that made walking a painful experience.

It would be a long ride.


	5. Chapter Five: Reaching Edoras

Chapter Five: Reaching Edoras

I had never seen a more welcome sight than the wooden houses of Edoras. Eothir perceived the look of profound relief on my face and smiled.

"It is a beautiful city," he told me. "I miss living there. The life of a Rider is a hard one, even now when Rohan is at peace."

I sighed. Eothir, though obviously a kind and gentle person, was very talkative...and I had been traveling with him for three days. I had already learned the names and characters of his three sons and daughter (Freawine, Denherin, Alfwine and Freawen, respectively). His sister Deowyn, a twenty-five-year old spinster, had come to live with them after Eothir's wife had died. I had also learned much about Rohan and the lives of the Riders- invaluable information, no doubt, but he had kept up a constant stream of chatter the entire time, and the journey had not been an easy one.

I thought of the oozing saddle sores I now exhibited and winced. Eothir's travel rations consisted of a rough, thick brown bread that hurt my stomach, and bitter ale that burned my throat and made me nauseous. I felt weak and cold most of the time; the world seemed covered with a misty haze that would not go away. 

The horses trotted up the steep hill that held Edoras on its top, and I was momentarily reminded of the vertical hill my house stood on. Eothir led my horse swiftly and surely, and most of the city passed by in a blur. Blond heads popped out of houses to stare at the outlander (as I most obviously was; my now-stained school clothes, dark skin and brown hair stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of pale-skinned, blond-headed Rohirrim). 

We soon stopped at a large wooden house. A blond woman's head appeared at a window on the second story, and soon she ran out the door to greet us. 

"Eothir? Why have you come?" Her eyes lit on me. "And who is your companion?"

"Her name is Thalia, Deowyn. The troop and I found her wandering alone in the empty plains three days ride from here. She remembers aught but her name."

Deowyn- for this was she- helped me from the horse kindly, smiling sympathetically as I winced from the pain in my crotch.

"I would that you could take her on, as a maidservant perhaps," Eothir continued. 

Deowyn snorted. "Tch, you men. She is welcome in my home as an honored guest." 

I swayed as I stood, feeling as though I would fall over if I did not sit down. Suddenly bile flooded up into my throat, and I put a hand to my mouth hurriedly. 

Deowyn saw, and led me swiftly through blurry hallways to a large, warm chamber full of the smells of cooking, which only served to make more bile rise. She held my head over a large basin. I gulped and threw up, going limp as she held me up. She smoothed back my hair, and her eyes widened as she touched my forehead.

"You burn with fever, child! Has Eothir no eyes, that he did not see this? A finer man has never lived, but he loves overmuch the sound of his own voice."

She led me to a small room with a wide bed in the center. Blackness roared in my ears, and I collapsed on the bed, asleep before another moment passed.


	6. Chapter Six: Of Fever Dreams and Elven H...

Chapter Six: Of Fever Dreams and Elven Healers

__

The door creaked gently, swinging in the summer breeze. A scent of honeysuckle and oak leaves drifted inside, mingling with the cooking smells of sage and thyme and the sounds of gentle laughter. 

"She will not take the ale! I cannot get her to eat."

"Ai! She burns with fever!"

"None will die in my house, not while I yet live." 

__

I was drowning in a lake of fire, surrounded on all sides by dancing flames. Below me lay a bottomless pit, and I fell and fell…

"This is almost beyond my skill to heal. It was fortunate that you called me when you did." 

__

Into the red-tinged blackness of my pit came a white light, tinted with silver. I fell into it and it lifted me, cool as a caress, covering the flames. Sighing, I sank into a deeper blackness devoid of the monstrous flames…

* * *

"Is the girl awake yet? I wish to meet her!"

"Hush, Denherin! She has been gravely ill, and it is only by the grace of the Valar and the skill of King Thengel's healer that she yet lives."

"I would prefer to credit it all to Eru's grace, milady." 

"You know she would have perished were it not for you."

I cracked an eye open. A tall, beautiful blond woman, looking flustered, was speaking to a pale, dark-haired, handsome man. 

"Aunt! Aunt! The girl is awake!"

This excited pronouncement came from a small blond cherub of a boy, who was hopping up and down at the foot of the bed. The woman started in astonishment and rushed over to the side of my bed. 

"Wh…where am I?" I croaked. "Heaven?"

Wherever it was, it certainly was not Stratford…

"You do not remember, lass?" she asked worriedly. "Eothir brought you here burning with fever. You have lain here three days; luckily, Thengel the King allowed us to borrow his healer-" she gestured towards the man, who bowed courteously- "and your life was 

spared. We have waited long for you to wake." 

In a torrent the past week returned, and I fell back against the pillows in a dead faint.

* * *

"Girl? Girl, awaken!" Small hands were shaking me, gently but insistently. I gingerly opened an eye, and was greeted by the sight of a tiny blond boy, looking to be about six, shaking me. At the sight of my opened eye, he gasped.

"Oh! Girl! You are awake! You slept a long time. Aunt was worried, but the Elf healer said that the fever was just wearing off naturally. He said you almost died."

I opened my eyes fully, and let my sluggish brain soak up the fact that I was in Rohan. I gazed about me in wonderment at the thatched roof and wooden walls around me, with the sun shining through a large wooden-framed window. I had realized every Tolkien fanatic's dream- I was _in Middle-Earth. _

The boy, taking no consideration for the dreams of Lord of the Rings geeks everywhere, tugged at my hand impatiently. 

"What's your name? Where are you from? Can't you talk? Aunt says that Father found you in a field. How did you get there? Can't you remember?"

The non-stop barrage of questions was exhausting to listen to, let alone answer. My stomach asserted itself, growling mightily as any lion. The boy giggled.

"You make strange noises. Where are you from? Does everyone make those noises where you live?"

My head spun, and I was suddenly seized by a spasm of coughing.

"Denherin! Denherin! Are you in the sick girl's room again? You know Aunt doesn't-"

The speaker, a tall blond girl looking to be about ten or so, stopped short directly inside the room as she caught sight of me sitting up, eyes open.

"Oh, Den, did you wake her? I am sorry," she said, addressing the last to me, "for he is young, and knows no better."

I smiled weakly and opened my mouth to speak. All that came out was a hoarse croak, and I realized suddenly how very parched my throat was. The girl looked shocked at the odd noises I was emitting. I coughed again, and managed an understandable rasp.

"…water, please…" I choked out painfully. The girl just looked more shocked.

"Water? Oh no, you cannot drink _water! _The stuff is foul, and it will make you sick again! Perhaps some mead?"

My stomach heaved at the memory of the bitter ale I had choked down on the ride, and I shuddered.

"Would you like milk, then?" The girl asked, after a pause. I nodded. 

"Yes, lady. I will get Aunt as well." 

She swept the boy out of the room, and I heard the patter of running feet outside in the hall.

I sank back against the cool pillow, my eyelids fluttering shut as I took breath after labored breath. 

"I do not like the sound of your breathing," came a voice. I started up, my eyes flying open. An Elf, complete with pointy ears, was sitting on my bed, tall and fair, with silver-tinted brown eyes that seemed to have a star captured inside them.

Peter Jackson didn't even come close, I thought as I met those eyes.

"You are like no mortal patient I have ever treated," he said, sounding puzzled. "You are…weaker, somehow. There is something about you that I cannot explain."

I gulped soundlessly, my throat working. No sound came out. Startled, he put a cool hand on my forehead, and his expression changed from startlement to worry.

"There is still fever? The cure I put on you should have left you to heal easily!"

I became aware of the fact that I was shaking like a leaf under his hand. My teeth chattered, and I watched helplessly as leaping flames licked the corners of my vision. 

The Elf took a breath, shut his eyes, and adjusted his hand on my forehead. A stream of cool water seemed to flow from his hand into my mind, dousing the fire that had begun to lap at my eyes like molten lava. I sighed in relief as blessed coolness flooded my consciousness. The last sound I heard was the Elf sighing in tired satisfaction. I dimly sensed him stepping back and arranging the pillows behind my head before I was swept away on a tide of cool white light…


	7. Chapter Seven: SQUEEE! I'M IN ROHAN!

Chapter Seven: SQUEEE! I'M IN ROHAN!!!! 

I next opened my eyes to look in to those of a tiny child, whose eyes were dark and very solemn. He was sucking his thumb. I gasped softly and sat up, feeling extraordinarily light.

"You have wakened again, child." I looked up. An Elf was smiling at me, standing in a wooden doorway. I shook my head to clear it, blinked a few times, and attempted to wake up, becoming slightly more concerned when I realized that the picture was not going away. I pinched myself slightly, then realized that I was wearing a long white shift I didn't recognize.

My stained school clothes lay in a corner, sadly stained beyond recognition. I colored, and the Elf smiled gently, realizing what I was looking at.

"Do not be ashamed, child, for it was not I that undressed you. I would not cause the shame you mortals seem to surround your bodies with, even whilst you were asleep. Nay, you were undressed by the kind lady of the house." 

I sighed, relieved, then realized that an Elf was talking to me about mortals' bodies, in some unspecified location in Middle-Earth. It didn't seem to be a dream, judging by the feel of the cloth on my body, the smell of the bedclothes and the Elf's sweet musical voice. 

__

I'm in Rohan, I remembered, _pre-LotR, Thengel's time…in the house of Eothir's sister…this Elf is Thengel's court healer… _

I tried to remember the Appendixes. _Something about Thengel talking only Westron in his house…? Maybe he brought this Elven healer from Gondor…? _

I looked down again at the tiny boy, who continued to stare at me levelly, with large brown eyes that seemed to dwarf his small face. The Elf smiled, and held out a long-skirted dress with a flaring skirt. I took it, and he left the room, taking the little boy with him and shutting the door.

I held up the dress, unbelieving. After a few moments I got out of bed and put it on, feeling the soft folds of material as they passed over my head. I twirled for a few seconds, getting used to the length of the skirt. 

__

My God, I'm in…I'm…I'm in Rohan. It had finally hit me, a blow like a sledgehammer, and I was suddenly ecstatic. I lifted the bedcovers to my nose and sniffed deeply, touched the wooden walls, danced around excitedly_._

"I'm in Rohan! I'M IN ROHAN! SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!!" 

The Elf poked his head in. 

"Yes, you are in Rohan."

I grinned guiltily, worrying the folds of my skirt.

"Er…ah…I…"

The Elf smiled. "Know you that when an Elf heals a human, some of that human passes to him? You could not have kept such a secret for long from me, besides. Worry not; I would not betray a confidence, even an unwilling one. Look inside yourself; you will find that some of me has passed to you, as well."

I decided to set aside this piece of information for a later date, when it could be processed further as it deserved. It was only later that I would find out about the silver glint that had passed into my eyes.

*My name is Duradarion*, he said softly, but his lips did not move. I gasped.

****

*What's going on?* I thought frantically, completely bewildered.

*Forgive me. This is something called _ka, _that a healer can speak to someone he has saved from the very jaws of death without words.*

I gulped, unsure what this explanation meant, but unwilling to pursue the topic further, as it gave me goosebumps. 

"Come, I would that you would meet Deowyn. She has been much concerned for you, and it would be a comfort for her to see you so well recovered." 

I grinned again and nodded, wanting to see as much of Edoras as I possibly could. _I'm in ROHAN! WHEEEEE!_

The halls were wide and wooden, and there was a smell of straw and sweat in the air, mingled with horse smells and a lingering scent of bread baking. I almost skipped, realizing once and for all that I was in the land of my obsession.

__

Thank God I *am* a LotR geek, I thought. _At least this way I have a chance._

Duradarion noticed my extreme cheerfulness amusedly, and led me through a few chambers and halls. I noticed the extreme grace of his movements and the lightness of his steps, the length of his limbs, the beauty in his very stride. A sense of wonder enveloped me, and sadness that these immortal creatures would soon leave Middle-Earth, and great beauty would be lost. 

__

No wonder I cried at the end of RotK, I thought bemusedly.

My thoughts were interrupted by Duradarion's abrupt stop in front of a large chamber, where the tall blond woman I remembered meeting stood before a large table, kneading bread. 

"Deowyn? The lass has recovered."

The woman looked up, her eyes lighting as she saw me. She strode over, smiling broadly.

"Ah, lass- what is your name? You had us worried! It would have grieved us all, had you died."

I smiled. "It would have grieved me more, I suppose. My name is Thalia, though that is all I remember of my past." 

The woman laughed delightedly, and clapped me on the back. "Fortunate are we that you have come to grace our household! Indeed, it would be a great lifting of my burden to have another woman about the house. Freawen is a lovely girl, but as yet too young to be a true companion, and my days are lonely."

I grinned, liking her immediately, and noticing at the same time the bags under her eyes. I would put what skill I had to helping her, that I knew immediately, and at the same time gain a friend. Some of the suffocating loneliness that had choked me lightened, and I began to wonder if I would not settle into Rohan, after all.


	8. Chapter Eight: Cooking With Deowyn

Chapter Eight: Cooking with Deówyn 

Deówyn motioned for me to walk around the table with her. She gestured to the dough-filled bowl.

"I am baking for the children's dinner," she told me. "It is strange that I, who have never married, work hard as any mother, is it not?"

I smiled sympathetically and rolled up my sleeves. "The ways of the world are strange indeed."

She looked up at me and smiled, her expression lightening as though a great burden had been lifted from her mind. I reached into the vessel and helped her knead, knocking the thick, heavy dough about forcefully.

"Your weakness seems to have disappeared," she observed, watching me pound the dough.

"And all due to the healing skill of the Elves," I answered. Suddenly, I remembered Duradarion and looked up, but he was gone.

Deówyn grinned wickedly and leaned over to whisper in my ear. "All the while you were sick, that Duradarion Elf stayed in this house. It was a welcome change to have a handsome man within these walls! Perhaps it was a good omen…"  
I giggled. "And perhaps, with the advent of another fair maiden, more handsome men shall grace these halls!"

Deówyn stopped kneading and laughed heartily. I grinned at her and resumed kneading, and after a few moments she joined me again.

"I have never seen anyone with skin as dark as yours," she told me, eyeing my dark olive skin, still tanned from the summer. 

"It seems that all of the people in your land are pale," I answered. "And their hair is yellow, as well. I feel out of place."

She smiled bemusedly at me, and I wondered how odd I must look with my curly dark brown hair and brown skin. 

At that moment, a whirlwind of blond hair, small pattering feet and limbs swept into the room, separating itself into four separate children.

"Aunt! Aunt!"

" We heard the girl is awake!"

"Oh, oh!"

A clamor of small voices reached our ears. Deówyn rolled her eyes at me, and I grinned back at her. She whispered to me again, an edge of gentle laughter in her voice.

"Your coming was the greatest excitement they have seen in all their lives. I have been sore pressed to keep them from your room, for they love to marvel at the colors of your hair and skin."

I quirked my mouth wryly, taking this as further evidence of my oddity, and snorted softly.

"Her name is Thalia," Deówyn was saying sternly, and I marveled at the change from her wicked, girlish laughter only a few moments before. "And she deserves just as much courtesy as I, if not more, for she has been ill. Now, address her as Rohirrim, not savages!"

I almost burst out laughing at the odd parallel with my own mother at home. _Some things never change, I guess, _I thought. _Poor Deówyn! Only twenty-five and bringing up three children alone. I wonder if Eothir knew what a burden he was dumping on her…?_

I walked up behind Deówyn and tried to look stern. The children's eyes widened to dinner-plate size, and they appeared to be drinking in every detail of my appearance, a rather disturbing effect, actually.

Deówyn smiled at me bemusedly, and gently pushed forward the smallest boy, whom I remembered as the one whom I had woken up being stared at by.  

"This is Alfwine," she introduced him loudly, and whispered aside to me, "He has been sucking his thumb since he was born almost, and now he is nearly two! I wonder if he will ever take it out of his mouth for long enough to talk."

Next she pulled forward the chubby older boy who had questioned me incessantly. 

"And this is Denherin," she told me. I could guess that he took after his father, even before Deowyn told me this- they had the same eyes.

"Freawine." A taller, thin boy who squinted as though he needed spectacles. Whispered, "That one is no warrior, for he loves his books more than anything- it is a labor to take him from his studies long enough to eat." 

I was powerfully reminded of my dad, and smiled broadly, imagining Freawine nodding excitedly as my father prattled on about quasars and black holes. 

And last, Deówyn brought forth the oldest, the girl who had offered to bring me milk. She was a lovely child, with long flowing hair like spun gold and high cheekbones, but there was a vacancy to her eyes which was reminiscent of the Abercrombie-wearing clones back at my school.

"Freawen." And, whispered, "A beautiful child indeed, but there is not a thought in her head…she lives for the latest dress and dreams about marrying one day." 

There was a slight bitter emphasis on the word _marrying, _and I wondered about the torture it must be to remain unmarried in a society like Rohan's, where women lived the lives of brood mares. 

The children were duly banished, and Deówyn and I went back to kneading bread. 

"It must be a hard life, caring for your brother's children alone," I murmured sympathetically. She shot me a look of profound gratitude.

"Aye, that it is. But now I have a companion to speak with…and forget not the good luck charm you have brought upon this house! I expect that I shall be married before five winters pass!" 

I grinned. "Ah, I am only new-come to this house, and already such a burden is laid upon my shoulders? I will do my best to live up to your hope."

Our conversation continued long after the bread was pounded beyond recognition and baked. We carried on speaking as I boiled a cauldron of water on the stove, got burned a few times, helped Deówyn (whom I had already begun to call Deó, and she to call me Thals) chop up vegetables and meat, and set trenchers on the table.

The kitchen was a happy, bustling whirl of noise and laughter, and I learned much of the cooking of Rohan and the customs of Rohirric womenfolk. 

"Be careful, Thals," called Deówyn as I hefted two loaded wooden plates waitress-style. I had tried unsuccessfully to teach her this method, and in the process spilled a few platefuls of food; she had chided me playfully, and I had eventually given up. 

"I do not need to!"

She chucked, throwing me a dubious look, and we shared yet another laugh. The table was set, the smell of food was in the air, and the children had not come back yet. But even before I had eaten, I felt very much more sated, full of an afternoon's worth of friendship. Rohan did not seem so frightening anymore, now that I had a friend.


	9. Chapter Nine: Surprises

There And Back Again? By Thalia Weaver  
  
A/N: This chapter dedicated to Aranel Manveri, whose persistence convinced me to continue this fic.  
  
Disclaimer: Anyone who believes the canon's mine can pick up a bridge in Brooklyn...going cheap...  
  
Chapter Nine: Surprises  
  
Many hours later, I had finally dropped off to a fitful sleep; I had a few dreams, mostly ones of home, and my parents. It seemed like only a few minutes had passed, though, when I awoke.  
  
My bedsheets were soaked in sweat, or so I thought. With a grimace, I threw back the covers and stood up, thinking to open a window and get a little fresh air or something. Then I looked down at my nightgown.  
  
"Ack!" I exclaimed. There was a bloodstain on it, spreading down from between my legs and...oh. "Shitshitshit," I muttered, feeling unclean. "Greeeeat, Thalia, just go and get your PERIOD now..."  
  
"Thalia?" It was Deowyn, looking sleepy and rumpled in her own nightgown.  
  
"Deowyn! I...well...I have my...monthlies," I told her, wincing a little.  
  
Deo merely tsk-ed. "No need to make such a fuss, my dear," she chided, every inch the mother. "I've some cloth in my room that will suit your purpose well enough."  
  
Lovely, I thought. Just flippin' spiffy.  
  
Deowyn's cloth pads, it turned out, functioned every bit as well as my own Kotex ones at home, proving once again that my preconceived notions were often sorely mistaken. Miraculously enough, Operation Period went relatively well, and I managed to salvage my lost night's sleep. The morning, however, was a different story.  
  
I've never had easy 'times of the month', but this one was a topper. Cramps, nausea- the whole nine yards. With it came the usual wave of depression, but I managed to battle through it, helping Deo serve breakfast to the kids and send them off to play. I only then realized what strength it takes to be a mother, and my respect for all mothers increased tenfold. Deowyn looked very excited in the afternoon, making me wonder exactly what she was up to.  
  
"My monthlies always make me feel sad," she said, her round face alight with excitement. "And so I thought, well, if your courses make you feel so ill as mine do, perhaps I can do something to cheer you up! And sure enough, the fates have conspired to help me."  
  
These words sounded ominous to my ears, and I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "And what would that entail, exactly?"  
  
"The market fair is coming to Eornhal on the morrow!" She exclaimed. Seeing my blank look, she smiled. "'Tis the next village from Edoras, but a league from here!"  
  
I blinked. "A league?" Not being an expert in medieval measurements, I had no idea what this meant.  
  
She looked at me oddly. "Yes, a league."  
  
I gave up. "And we would have to wake up..."  
  
"Before the rising of the sun- bright and early!"  
  
I looked at her with dread. "You're not a...morning person, are you?"  
  
She blinked. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Never mind."  
  
It was with some trepidation that I fell asleep that night...  
  
...and was awoken before the sun rose, which felt like about five o'clock or so. I moaned. "How do you expect me to rise at such an ungodly hour?"  
  
"Nay, tis the start of a new day! Oh, can you not wait for the fair? I am so excited!"  
  
I had the feeling that if we were in a chat room, her remarks would be peppered with exclamation points. Being the polite guest that I am, I refrained from hitting her with the nearest two-by-four and going back to sleep- she had opened her home and her heart to me, even if she WAS a supernaturally cheerful morning person.  
  
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I dressed as quickly as I could manage, with Deowyn hovering over me like a too-energetic honey bee.  
  
"Are you ready?" She asked.  
  
"Yes," I replied, and we set out.  
  
* * *  
  
A league apparently was somewhere between ten and twenty miles. I'm not exactly in the best shape in the world, and soon was puffing and panting like a cow stranded on a desert island. Deowyn occasionally called back encouragement from her place about twenty feet in front of me, and I nodded and tried to wheeze softer, though why I did so was really beyond my reasoning.  
  
Finally, we reached Eornhal, a small village that looked to have a population of a hundred or so, judging by the amount of straw huts. A massive throng of traders, entertainers, and blonde Rohirric gawpers crowded the streets, and I smiled to myself at the sheer and utter shock on their faces.  
  
"'Tis quite a sight, is it not?" Deowyn almost-yelled in my ear, trying to be heard among the din. "There are so many traders here, from distant lands! Perhaps your kin are here as well!"  
  
Although she meant well, the words, amplified by raging depressive hormones, triggered a wave of homesickness that hit me like a tsunami. All of a sudden, the massive fair didn't seem so fun anymore- now it was alien, unfamiliar, frightening. I nodded through the sudden lump in my throat, and didn't meet her eyes.  
  
"Perhaps." 


	10. Chapter Ten: Flirtation At The Fair

A/N: Yay! Chapter Ten is DONE! Chapter eleven's written out, but it's a real big 'un- it'll be incredibly irritating to type…and I'm laaaaaaazy…  
  
Disclaimer: Deowyn, Thalia, Anneth, and Kharaj are mine. Anything you recognize is Tolkien's.  
  
Chapter Ten: Flirtation at the Fair  
  
As Deowyn and I stood by the side of the fair, eyeing the thronging crowds with some trepidation, an outlandishly dressed man wearing a lute strung over one shoulder walked up to us, grinning. He had brown hair and a nice smile, and he appeared to be enjoying himself.  
  
"Would you two ladies like for me to sing you a song?" He asked, bowing low.  
  
"Certainly, sir," Deowyn replied, her face lighting.  
  
"I could never refuse the wish of such a beautiful lady," he answered, straightening and giving us a grin.  
  
"Surely you speak of my companion, for none could call *me* beautiful," Deowyn remarked, somewhat coquettishly. I suppressed a grin- getting out of the house was, apparently, a good thing for my friend!  
  
"Ah, milady, I fear that you are sorely mistaken," he told her with a wink. Without further ado, he launched into a ballad of a beautiful yellow-haired maiden who stole the hearts of all the men she came across. I couldn't help but notice that he didn't take his eyes off Deowyn for most of the time he was singing.   
  
It was a very funny song, and cheered me up immensely. When he was done, we clapped rapturously, and Deowyn began digging in her basket for some money to pay him with. The minstrel waved a hand for her to stop.  
  
"Nay, I would not charge for this: 'twas my pleasure. I ask only that you look for Anneth the minstrel, if ever you see this fair again."  
  
"Anneth…" she repeated. "If ever you are in Edoras, look for Deowyn Guthwinesdottir."  
  
He smiled. "I will."  
  
"You travel with the fair?" Deowyn asked, shifting her basket from her left arm to her right.   
  
"Aye, that I do. 'Tis a hard life, but pays well, and I've naught else to look to for a trade," he answered.  
  
"So you have traveled through many lands?" she eagerly questioned.   
  
"Yes…Harad, and Gondor…"   
  
At that point, I began to feel like the proverbial third wheel. Deowyn and Anneth obviously wanted to talk alone, and interesting as the conversation was, I didn't want to intrude on their privacy.  
  
"Deowyn?" I asked her softly. "I'm going to go look at the fair."  
  
She smiled absentmindedly at me. "There are coins in your basket if you wish to buy anything."  
  
I wandered off, good mood restored, absorbed in the sights and sounds of the bustling fair. Tiny Rohirric children clung to their mothers, staring wide-eyed at the jugglers, minstrels, merchants and sword swallowers. At least I did not stand out so much here…  
  
"Ivory! I-vor-y! Mu-maak ivory!" Called a merchant, piquing my curiosity. I walked over to a scarlet-and-gold tent, where the voice was coming from. Inside, a large table stood, covered in the merchant's goods. Behind the table sat a dark-skinned man, giving a piping call to advertise his products. At the sight of me, he nodded courteously.  
  
I gasped slightly- every inch of the table was covered in beautiful, exotic-looking merchandise. Ivory boxes, carved with incredibly precision and skill; jeweled scimitars; figurines carved of jade and tiger's eye- it looked as though all of Harad had come to one small village in Rohan.   
  
I caught sight of a beautiful crimson scarf lying among the merchandise and fingered the soft fabric for a moment, marveling at its beauty. A tiny jade elephant fell out of it, and I picked it up.  
  
"This is amazing," I breathed, fingering the elephant- or oliphaunt, as this was Middle-earth.   
  
"You like it?" The trader asked, smiling. He had dark brown skin, and chocolate-covered eyes that had a tint of gold to them. "It is Rhanuj, the mumak god. He brings luck to all that carry his figurines."   
  
I smiled a bit. "I suppose I am a lucky person already."  
  
The trader squinted at me. "You are not from Rohan," he observed. "You have the hair and skin of the women of my people."   
  
I eyed the long, dark, curly hair that hung over my shoulders ruefully, and grinned. "I am, indeed, *not* from Rohan," I confirmed, restating the obvious. "Neither am I from Harad. I…I am not sure from whence I come." My face fell. "It gets lonely sometimes."  
The trader nodded. "Harad is far from here. I know what it is to ache for your home, and your people."  
  
I looked up. "What is your name?"  
  
"I am Kharaj, son of Nahir. And you?"  
  
"Thalia…Thalia Weaver."   
  
Kharaj raised his eyebrows. "I have traveled far, with this caravan and others, but never have I heard such a name," he said. "Your home must be distant indeed."  
  
I nodded, feeling a tear prick the back of my eye. "Yes, it is."  
  
He caught my gaze, smiling sadly. At that moment, the tent flap opened. A tall Rohirric man walked in, browsing through the merchandise.   
  
I smiled at Kharaj, recognizing his need to attend to his customer. "Thank you," I told him, not quite sure what I was thanking him for- perhaps for sharing his sorrow with me, and for letting me see some of the wonders of Harad.  
  
He nodded courteously at me, holding out a hand. I stared at it for a moment, raising an eyebrow, then shook it. He smiled and leaned back, so presumably I had done the right thing.   
  
I noticed something hard and cold in my hand. Opening it, I saw the little jade oliphaunt I had picked up before. I gasped, shocked.  
  
"You- there must be some mistake," I breathed, handing it back to him.   
  
He pressed it into my hand. "This is my gift to you. Rhanuj be merciful, his luck will help you find your home."  
  
"Merchant…" the Rohirric man interrupted. "I would buy this sword."   
  
I smiled rapturously at Kharaj, clutching the little figurine; then I turned and left, leaving him to deal with his customer.   
  
Once I had re-entered the bustling crowds of the fair, I was struck by the huge number of people there. During the weeks I had stayed with Deowyn, I had become somewhat familiar with the streets of Edoras- but even in Rohan's capital, I had not seen so many people gathered together at once. It reminded me of the Grateful Dead concert I had attended a while ago.  
  
Staring at the sea of blonde heads and unfamiliar faces, a thought struck me-  
  
How was I going to find Deowyn?  
  
A/N pt II- dun dun dun….cliffhanger! ;) Chapter 11 is on the presses, don't worry.  



	11. Chapter Eleven: True Love?

Chapter Eleven: True Love?  
  
C'mon, elephant...thing, don't fail me now, I thought, clutching the jade figurine. I looked around.  
  
The crowd showed no signs of disappearing, or yielding up my friend.  
  
"Damnit," I muttered, slipping the elephant in my basket.  
  
"Jew-el-ry!" a random merchant yelled, much too close to my ear for comfort. I jumped and turned, to find that I had nearly bumped into a man laden with necklaces, rings and bracelets.  
  
"Sorry," I apologized. He nodded, smiled and walked on, raising his voice again in plaintive advertisement of his sparkling wares.  
  
I cast my gaze dismally around at the milling crowd, eyeing the sea of blond heads; trying to spot Deowyn would be something like trying to find a straw in a haystack.  
  
"Pfft," I sighed explosively, longing to sit down. My feet hurt, and roaming around aimlessly searching for Deowyn wasn't helping anything. Everywhere around me, Rohirric men, women and children laughed joyously, contributing to the general hubbub.  
  
Dark-haired merchants, minstrels and entertainers occasionally surfaced among the crowd. The whole scene had taken on a tinge of unreality; a sense of disbelief descended on me. I almost smiled at the bizarre irony of it: I was lost in Rohan, wishing I was home. How many times had I wished to be in MIddle-Earth? ...some astronomical number. The sun dipped lower inthe sky: it had been hours since I had left Deowyn. It felt like weeks.  
  
At any rate, I was lost, hungry, aching and alone in an unfamiliar crowd.  
  
Spiffy, I thought grimly, just fecking uber-spiffy.  
  
I felt a familiar pricking at the back of my eye. Sure enough, a tear made its way down my cheek. Angrily, I brushed it away.  
  
"Thalia?" a familiar voice asked, behind me.  
  
"Deowyn! Thank Eru!" I cried, hugging her tightly. "I've been looking for you!"  
  
She laughed. "I am sorry, Thalia...I should not have let you go alone."  
  
"Psssh," I replied, "I was an idiot for wanting to." A thought occurred to me. "Where's Anneth?"  
  
"Deowyn!" A man callled, elbowing his way though the crowd. "Sorry...excuse me...forgive me...pardon..."  
  
"Right there," Deowyn replied, pointing at him.  
  
"There you are, Deowyn!" Anneth panted, catching up to us. "I stopped to look at that horse for but a moment, and then you were gone..." He grinned. "But none can elude me for long."  
  
"I am sorry, Anneth; I thought you were behind me," Deowyn replied, turning towards him with a smile. Their eyes met.  
  
"You are forgiven, of course," Anneht told her, suddenly dropping his eyes. "The fault was mine."  
  
She looked worriedly at him, stepping closer. "Anneth? Is something wrong?"  
  
He looked up. "It's nothing, I-" he sighed. "I just-"  
  
Hoo boy, I thought. I'm betting there's a confession of True Love coming up.  
  
"You-" he continued stuttering. Deowyn quirked an eyebrow. I grinned. That's my Deo...Make 'im sweat. Now, if he really loves her...  
  
Practical considerations like a home and food aside, Deo was my friend; she was genuinely selfless and sweet, and occasionally revealed a wicked sense of humor. So if Anneth was actually a con-artist scumbag, I'm blow a gasket and kick his ass. But I didn't think you could fake chemistry like the chemistry hanging so thickly between them you could cut it with a knife.  
  
"What I mean is, you're beautiful," Anneth finished, finally.  
  
"I-" Deowyn, flustered, began studying her shoes.  
  
"That's not what I meant," Anneth said hastily. Looking surprised at his own daring, he grabbed her hand. "What I mean is..."  
  
The cliche-ness was too obvious to ignore. I prepared for the inevitable Cheesy Love Speech. A thought occurred to me.  
  
All those movies and books kinda cheapen love, I thought. Here I am, rolling my eyes...I mean, this is probably genuine! This moment should generate some major aww's...  
  
"...All day I sing about true love, and lovers that meet and fall in love in a day, but I've- well, I've never felt anything that came close, until..." he lifted her hand, clasping it to his chest. "Until I met you, and then- oh, it's a thousand times better than the old songs, because it's happening to...me."  
  
Deowyn smiled at him, pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes; they appeared to have completely forgotten my existence.  
  
"Before this day, I thought love was but a lie," she whispered. "But you- you changed my mind..."  
  
I could feel a sentimental tear trickling down my cheek.  
  
That's so beautiful! I thought, sniffling.  
  
Anneth leaned forward, to meet Deowyn's upturned face. Both their eyes widened as their lips met, but the kiss lasted.  
  
"Aww, gee," I muttered, smiling goofily.  
  
Deowyn broke the kiss, and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.  
  
"I love you," she whispered."  
  
There were tears glistening in Anneth's eyes as he smiled.  
  
"And I- I, too," he replied, hesitantly. "I never thought this would -nay, could- happen to me..."  
  
Deo nodded. "I have only known you this day, but..."  
  
"Beren and Luthien met but once, in a wood- he fell in love with her whilst she danced; Thingol watched Melian, bound to her as with a spell; and I- I met you at a fair..."  
  
"Fine company I keep," Deowyn replied, ruefully. Then she leaned up and kissed him, ard.  
  
I looked at the sky. The sun was setting; in a matter of moments it would be dark. I cast a glacne at Deowyn and Anneth, wondering how rude it would be to interrupt. I wanted to be *home* by midnight.  
  
I tried a discreet cough. They completely ignored me. Deo was crying, and Anneth was wiping away her tears.  
  
Oy, I thought, eyeing the colorful sky. I looked dismally back at the two.  
  
Okay, I thought resignedly. Lots of walking in complete darkness for Thalia. Yeah...that's fine...I can deal with that...  
  
A/n: My God, that took a really long time to write...I have about ten different versions of it in my notebook, but that one's the best, I think. Anyway, hope you liked! ^_^ 


	12. Chapter Twelve: And That's That

There- And Back Again?  
  
By Thalia Weaver  
  
Chapter 12: And That's That  
  
The day dawned bright and clear, slanting rays of sunlight shining from the window directly into my eyes. I groaned. waking up early was neither fun for me nor particularly enjoyable for anyone else that I came across before noon, but it was a necessary evil in a Rohirric household. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I dressed quickly, selecting the first dress I touched in the closet.  
  
As I leaned over to shut the closet door, my gaze fell on the worn, patched shirt and skirt that I had worn to school that fateful day, so very long ago, it seemed. I paused for a moment, thoughts tumbling through my head.  
  
Deowyn needed help preparing the breakfast. Abruptly, I shut the closet door, banishing my thoughts until such time as I could dwell on them. I began walking swiftly down the hall to the kitchen.  
  
Five paces from the kitchen, I stopped short. Two voices- a man's and a woman's- reached my ears. One I recognized as Deowyn's, tinkling with laughter. The other's was-  
  
Anneth's? I felt my lips twitching. So bewitched by Deo he'd abandoned the fair and sought her out for himself, eh? I looked around for the chink in the wall I knew was somewhere- any lovers' meetings taking place within these walls required immediate eavesdropping by me, lest I miss something important. Putting my eye to the peephole, I watched in fascination as Deo poured Anneth tea and they flirted away, happy in the obviousness of their mutual infatuation.  
  
Deowyn looked- radiant. I'd never seen her looking so happy; she was a very beautiful woman, but even more so when smiling. Anneth laughed and told stories and generally endeared himself. I found myself liking him a lot, not least for his obvious effect on Deo.  
  
They kissed eventually. I grinned, most of my doubts about Anneth evaporating: it looked as though a genuine Decent Guy had fallen- hard- for Deo. It was wonderful, and amazing, and made me feel all warm and fuzzy, like moist fungus.  
  
I thought back to a certain conversation that had taken place just a few short weeks ago.  
  
Maybe I really am a good luck charm, I thought, and smiled.  
  
* * *  
  
On the firth day since the fair, Anneth proposed. I wasn't lucky enough to have been eavesdropping at the time; they had gone for a long walk, and returned flushed with joy and pride, and grinning like idiots.  
  
Anneth had already met and been approved of by Deowyn's brood, and when he met Denherin's slightly unnerving gaze without flinching, my last doubts were dispelled.  
  
Denherin had stared solemnly up at his new acquaintance, removed a chubby thumb from his mouth, and silently shaken Anneth's hand.  
  
Freawen had blushed and simpered and generally exhibited her blondeness; Alfwine had squinted at him, sized him up, and nodded in silent approval; and Freawine had initiated a whispered interrogation.  
  
For my part, I simply smiled, and drew Deowyn aside.  
  
"Are you sure this is right?" I asked, taking her hands in mine.  
  
"More sure than I've ever been of anything," she replied, meeting my gaze.  
  
And that was that. 


End file.
